


Five Seconds

by there_must_be_a_lock



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dirty Talk, Dom Sam Winchester, F/M, Gooey Marshmallow Core, Long-Distance Relationship, Phone Sex, Quarantine 2020, Strip Tease
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:54:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24193141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/there_must_be_a_lock/pseuds/there_must_be_a_lock
Summary: On the phone one night she’d said, “There’s something about you that makes me feel like it’s okay to be dirty,” and Sam gets hard every time he thinks about the shameless, ragged need in her voice as she said it. He wants to drive her crazy, make her go wild, wants to act out every fantasy she’s confided to him at night in the dark, each filthier than the last.
Relationships: Sam Winchester/You
Comments: 6
Kudos: 46





	Five Seconds

“Sam?” 

“I got your video,” he says, without preamble. 

He can’t take his eyes off his laptop screen. She’s undoing the last button of her flannel, now, fiddling with it teasingly as she looks straight at the camera with this coquettish smile, and he can see soft flesh spilling over black lace. He tucks his phone between his cheek and his shoulder as he tries to get his belt open. 

“Yeah?” 

“Opened it in the library. Almost dropped my laptop trying to get back to my room,” Sam says. He kicks his jeans off and pulls his shirt up, palming himself, gritting his teeth as his cock twitches at the touch. 

“You like it?” she asks. On the screen, she’s got her back to the camera, swiveling her hips as she slides her jeans down to reveal more black lace cupping the smooth curves of her ass. He loves that she didn’t wear heels or a skirt or try to dress up for this; he loves that she wouldn’t ever pretend to be something she’s not. 

“Can’t believe how fucking hot you are,” he growls. “I miss you so much right now.”

They’d been spending _days_ at a time in bed, before the lockdown; they’d been right in that phase of a relationship where you’re _obsessed_ with a person, comfortable enough that the sex starts to get really good, new enough that every time still feels like a revelation. If she wasn’t halfway across the country when quarantine started (in Seattle of all fucking places) she would be right here with him, but she’d insisted on waiting, holing up there until they could be sure she wouldn’t bring the virus back to the bunker. 

“Miss you, Sam,” she says. There’s this whine in her voice, a high-pitched edge, like maybe she really does need him as much as he needs her. 

He squeezes the base of his cock, grips tight and twists up, letting her hear the hitch in his breath, and she whimpers.

It’s been a month now since they saw each other, and Sam’s starting to feel like a teenager again. He’s _never_ missed someone like this. She’s all he can think about: her smile, her eyes, her skin, the way she begs when she gets close, the way she looks with his handprints all over her… he’s pretty sure this is it, for him. She’s this constant hot twist in his guts, an itch under his skin, and jerking off isn’t anywhere near as satisfying as it should be. She’s the only thing that’s going to really satisfy him, now.

“So fucking hard for you,” he says. “Driving me crazy, watching you and not being able to touch you.” 

“I don’t think you understand,” she half-laughs, “Been thinking about you all the time, Sam. Can’t wait to see you again. So wet just thinking about you, your hands… want your fingers in my cunt while you choke me with the other hand.” 

He knows this is new for her, like so many things she’s started to explore with him. 

On the phone one night she’d said, “There’s something about you that makes me feel like it’s okay to be dirty,” and Sam gets hard every time he thinks about the shameless, ragged need in her voice as she said it. He wants to drive her crazy, make her go wild, wants to act out every fantasy she’s confided to him at night in the dark, each filthier than the last. The more she trusts him, the more she opens up, and he’s fucking astounded by her whispered confessions; he’s starting to think he’s met his match. 

There’s an abrupt noise on the other end of the line, like a slamming door, and then muffled, indistinct voices. 

“Where are you right now?” Sam asks. “Tell me you’re out at the grocery store, hiding in the bathroom. God, you’re dirty.” 

She giggles, sounding slightly flustered. “Don’t worry about it.” 

In the video, she’s bending at the waist, kneading her ass, looking over her shoulder with heavy-lidded eyes. She smacks herself lightly with one hand, just hard enough that Sam can see the jiggle of the impact, and he groans remembering the last time he saw her; he put her on her hands and knees, brought his palm down until her skin was hot and red, and when he finally rubbed the head of his cock between her legs she _shoved_ herself back, impaling herself on the thick length of it with this blissed-out sigh like all she’d ever wanted was to be spanked raw and fucked open. 

Sam shudders and strokes himself a little faster. 

“How fast do you think you could get yourself off, if I just held you down on my cock? I have this game in mind… gonna tie you up, touch you, lick you, play with you, get you right up to the edge and then pull back, over and over again, until you think you can’t take any more. Then I’m going to give you ten seconds to come on my cock. Not gonna move, not gonna let _you_ move, just gonna hold you down and stuff you full and see if you can come from squeezing me with that perfect little cunt.” 

“And if I can’t do it in ten seconds?” she asks, low and breathless. 

“Then I’m going to start all over again. Make you beg and cry and scream for it. You come in ten seconds, or not at all.” 

“Make it five,” she purrs. “Also… Sam?” 

“Yeah?”

“Surprise.” 

There’s a knock on the door. 

“You’re fucking kidding me,” Sam breathes. He’s frozen for a moment, so shocked he can barely muster the self-control to take his hand off his dick, and he hears her giggle through the phone a split-second after it echoes out in the hallway. His heart is racing. 

“Not kidding. Open the fucking door, Sam.” 

She hangs up on him. He’s clumsy with adrenaline and more than a little frustrated; he just drops the phone, wraps a blanket around himself with shaking hands, and slaps the laptop closed. When he manages to fumble the lock open and open the door, she’s beaming at him, cheeks flushed, eyes sparkling, and Sam’s so hypnotized by her smile that he just stands there staring. He’s so happy he feels like he’s choking. 

“Forget your pants?” she asks, like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, and Sam laughs, giddy and stunned. He steps back and gestures, welcoming her inside, grinning so wide his cheeks hurt. 

“You’re…” he says. He can’t quite figure out how to end that sentence, but he settles on, “You’re _here_.” 

“Sam?” she says softly. She steps closer, biting her lip, looking up at him through her lashes. 

“Yeah?” 

She grins, tugging his blanket away and letting it fall. “You have five seconds.” 

Sam closes the distance between them, finally, and just before their lips meet, he mumbles, “You’re _evil_.” 

He almost adds, _and I think I love you_ , but he’s too busy kissing her to get the words out. 


End file.
